


Purple Shirts and Smirking Shenanigans

by thepizzasitter



Series: Strut Verse [5]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: A series of related oneshots, Explicit Sexual Content, Lab Sex, M/M, Porn, Purple Shirt of Sex, Saving the World, Science Boyfriends, Smut, Strut Verse, Supportive Avengers, bruce banner is a sexy motherfucker, dubious experiments, it is fact, nerdy innuendo, swearing means truth, the story of two dorks having ridiculous amounts of sex, tony and bruce get frisky in the lab, tony is horny as hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 04:11:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepizzasitter/pseuds/thepizzasitter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Goddammit Banner!" Bruce blinked. What? "This fucking shirt needs to be fucking illegal! This shirt, Bruce! This goddamn Purple Shirt of Sex! Do you do this on purpose?" The boys have a bit of fun in the labs, and smiles are analyzed in the best of ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purple Shirts and Smirking Shenanigans

**Author's Note:**

> This one was a look into the first time Tony tells Bruce he loves him. Bruce has expressed it more than once, but Tony has taken the roundabout course. Now, he's going to state it in no uncertain terms. It's a step in the right direction. I also wanted to use the Purple Shirt Of Sex. This chapter takes place immediately (a continuation) after the second chapter "Simple Gestures". Song motivation was "Everybody Loves Me" by OneRepublic because yeah...Tony's theme song right there.

"Shall we play, doctor?"

The smirks were common enough, always lurking to either present amusement or defense, and Bruce loved each and every one of those small quirks of lips that could draw out life in him. Those lips that could have him either as relaxed as he could be despite his usual hyperactive state, or writhing on the brink of decadent mindlessness. They could provide pleasure, they could dole out pain. Either way, the smirks were among his favorites on Tony.

But this might surpass them.

This was more than an expression of amusement. This was a particular tug of the mouth that Tony only ever presented to him. And if he had words for it, he was sure he'd give up being a scientist and just write poetry for the rest of his life.

Wherever Tony had gotten the idea that Bruce might not want to be with him, or would grow bored with him, it was clearly universes away from the real world. The one where he and Tony blew things up in their lab on a daily basis and talked and laughed until their sides ached and they got migraines from lack of sleep, or spent entire days in the bedroom because once, twice, a third or fourth time wasn't enough. Far from it. Any hesitance Bruce might have had in the beginning was being diminished whenever Tony looked at him with _this_ expression, or held him like _that_. Each part of their lovemaking was genuine, wholehearted, not lacking in either tenderness or fervor. Tony had rapidly learned Bruce's love gestures; a brief glance that darted away meant the scientist was contemplating a potential coupling later in the evening, while a pointed stare was like the equivalent of Tony's "Screw the team, screw the world, we're screwing each other." If his hand lingered over Tony's when it was laid on his chest, he wanted affection. If he gripped or clutched at Tony's bicep, he craved things to be rougher, faster.

In all honesty, he had never even noticed the small signals he gave Tony. But Tony sure did.

His hands fisted in the material of Tony's band tee, scooting back onto the lab table and drawing Tony down for fierce kisses that had all the stability of accelerated nuclear ions and all the burning of a pH level of 2.7. Tongues clashed and Tony crawled over him, pushing the ruined experiment that was—thankfully—neutralized to the floor with a broad sweep that immediately made Bruce think of _telenovelas_. Except the real thing was exponentially better and didn't send him into fits of mock-gagging.

Tony braced his hands on either side of Bruce's head and leaned in close, that devious smile never failing to make the scientist's stomach twist in the most agonizing anticipation. This time it was Bruce who initiated the next kiss, dragging Tony down and tugging at the hem of his shirt, slipping hands beneath the fabric to run across overheated skin.

Tony took the hint and leaned up to rid himself of the barrier, before going to work on Bruce's lab coat and—

"Goddammit Banner!"

Bruce blinked. _What?_

"This fucking shirt needs to be fucking _illegal!"_

Tony was staring at his clothed chest, and Bruce felt a shiver run up his spine at the predatory look in Tony's eyes. He was bared to him even _with_ all his clothes on. He realized Tony was still ranting. "—seriously, purple shouldn't even look _good_ on a guy, much less make him the incarnation of sex!"

Through the pleasured haze of arousal, Bruce frowned slightly, wondering what the hell Tony was talking about. "Wait…what?"

"This shirt, Bruce! This goddamn Purple Shirt of Sex! Do you do this on purpose?"

"I—what are you talking abo—" His sentence was cut short when Tony slid his hands up his abdomen and rid him of the shirt. A small moan escaped him when Tony's hands and mouth returned to their previous task of driving him crazy. A few vials crashed to the floor somewhere, and he didn't even feel bad. Quite the opposite.

"Much better. Can't focus with that shirt on you," Tony muttered, and Bruce briefly wondered at his lover's sanity (not for the first time) before Tony whispered, "So fucking sexy, and you don't even know it. I can't decide if that's a good thing or not. Nope, just decided that I hope you never do, or I'm gonna be _so_ whipped."

And if there were words more lovingly crafted to do a number on his breathing, he hoped he'd never hear them. _He loves me. He loves me. He thinks I'm attractive and he likes my shirt._ His thoughts were odd and disjointed; Tony had never said those words, but he didn't have time to think before his breathing kicked into double time. Tony lowered back down to settle against him and ground his hips against Bruce's, lips connecting like puzzle pieces locking together. Bruce's cry of need fed the fire of arousal pooling in Tony's gut, his own sound of pleasure answering his lover's.

Tony didn't bother with much foreplay this time; their arousal was a nearly tangible entity— _aside from the obvious_ , his mind quipped—and to draw this out would be too much at the moment. Bruce's tight reign over himself was collapsing, but Tony knew that he'd hold onto it until the Mayans were proved right if Tony didn't _encourage_ things a little.

All of the lovers he'd had in the past…none of them could remotely compare to this man beneath him. Bruce was more than anyone could ask for, much less the former Merchant of Death. Tony feared the universe would seek to right itself and take Bruce back from him, but at this moment, he had him, and _damn_ if that wasn't enough to make Tony's heart squeeze and his hands shake a little. And maybe lose his mind.

"I—love you."

And then the only sound in the room was the occasional beeping of the monitors and the _ding!_ of an email being received. It looked like both of them had stopped breathing entirely. _Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckgoddammit!_ Tony's mind was strangely blank besides the strings of profanity buzzing around. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" He swallowed the words when Bruce raised his hand to grip his hair.

"Mean it."

"I think—"

"Either say it and mean it, or don't say it at all, Tony, or I will not hesitate to leave you here, wound up, and finish this _by myself_ in my room." The words, though they could be construed as a threat, were not a threat at all on Bruce's voice. Just awed and slightly fearful. Tony was reminded of a game kids used to play, picking petals one by one off a withering flower. _He loves me, he loves me not…_

"I love you. So fucking much." He only hoped Bruce didn't run for the hills.

The physicist's immediate smile could have sustained Stark Towers for far more than a year. "You swore." Tony stared at him for a second, before he began to shiver with embarrassing giggles. They expanded to laughing and he leaned down to kiss Bruce.

"I did: that makes it legit." He only purposefully refrained from profanity when he was lying or trying to get something. For a few moments, the kisses were as chaste as anything that was chaste. _So I can't be bothered to think of a good simile, so what?_ Tony thought hazily, before their tongues made the kiss considerably less innocent. Hands wandered across bare skin, neither knowing where they wanted to touch first, mouths fused until Bruce wrapped his legs around the back of Tony's and provided them the friction they'd been seeking. "Fucking—!" Tony gasped, the rest of what he was going to say lost to the air rushing from his lungs.

"Yup." Bruce had a smirk of his own, the light dancing in his eyes and making Tony's entire body thrum with delicious pleasure at his partner's happiness.

Tony chuckled for a moment before he bit at the juncture of Bruce's shoulder and neck, earning a moan that nearly drove him wild. The rest of their clothing was gone seconds afterwards, haphazardly thrown away from them, hopefully not near anything with flames. But if the tower burned down, Tony could boast that his hotness was too much to handle, so it was a win-win either way.

Hips thrust against one another, tenacious hold on control slipped into the void and neither tried to catch it as it vanished. Sheathed and nerves like live wires, Tony thrust into his lover, his mind continuously reminding him that he was with _Bruce, Bruce, always Bruce._ He'd thought falling couldn't get any more enjoyable than it had been a half hour ago when Bruce gave him the promise of 'self-sustaining and glowing' love. He was _very_ wrong. Every moan, every twitch of muscle under his hands, every kiss sealed his fate, and he was more than happy to go with it. He was in love with Bruce Banner and the world would fucking _know_ it.

He flipped them, Bruce's eyes squeezed shut and a choked sound ripped from his throat as Tony went deeper underneath him. His hands found purchase against the tabletop, finding their rhythm once more. Glazed eyes sought the other's, seeing walls crumbling and vaults spilling forth their treasures. It was the most unguarded Bruce had ever seen Tony.

"Love—ah—you," Tony said once more, claiming the scientist's lips and undulating to bring Bruce to the edge and swallowing his keen of completion when the words undid him. Tony chased after him one, two, three erratic thrusts later, Bruce's name on his lips and his shoulders just a little less weighed down.

Breath eventually regained, heart rate slowed and eye-lids heavy, Tony smiled.

Tony's post-coital smile was Bruce's favorite of all.

xXx

"So, my purple shirt makes me the incarnation of sex?"

"If I turn around and you have it on, I can't be held responsible for my actions, Bruce." The smirk could be heard in his voice.

"You said we couldn't put off the project S.H.I.E.L.D gave us anymore, right?"

"Probably."

Silence. A sigh.

"I'll go change."


End file.
